


Jay Gatsby Never Gets Nervous (except for that one time when he does)

by charlesdarwininthetardis



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (2013)
Genre: Alternative Perspective, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 09:58:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2577362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlesdarwininthetardis/pseuds/charlesdarwininthetardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an absolute disaster. I’m so embarrassed. I am Jay Gatsby, and I can’t even talk to a girl. I can’t believe I ever thought this was a good idea.</p><p>Or, that one scene in Chapter 5 as told from Gatsby's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jay Gatsby Never Gets Nervous (except for that one time when he does)

As we hear the sound of the motor on the drive, Nick and I both jump up in shock and exchange a glance with each other.

Though as Nick goes outside to greet Daisy, I stand there, frozen. I had looked forward to and dreaded this moment for so long, and it is finally here. But now that the time had come, I don’t know what to do.

Time seems to slow down as I see Nick and Daisy make their way up the walk through the rain. Her movements are graceful as she moves, seemingly in slow motion, and she is so beautiful. She is even more beautiful than I remembered, and I had remembered her being even more beautiful as an angel.

But seeing her on the walk is enough to unfreeze my thoughts and speed time up to its normal pace again. Standing in the middle of the room like an idiot won’t accomplish anything. I need a plan.

I frantically scan the room for anything, any idea that would get me through this. As my gaze darts around the room, all I can see are flowers, which suddenly seem extremely claustrophobic, and I need to get out. I run out of the back door and shut it, leaning my back against the door and gasping in the rain-drenched air.

I am normally so calm and collected; I take every care to make sure I am constantly presentable and professional. I am always in control of any situation. I bought flowers and specialty tea for this occasion. I even mowed Nick’s lawn for him to make sure everything looked perfect! Yet the idea of seeing Daisy again panics me. Here, I’m not in control. What if I say something she thinks is stupid? What if I do something she thinks is stupid? Does she even want to see me again?

As I stand there, breathing in the rain, I hear Nick and Daisy’s laughing, carefree voices carry through the air. I hear her cry out, “Come back in an hour, Ferdie,” and then their laughter as they enter the house.

I creep around to the front of the house and peer through the window to see them halt in the empty living room. Although I can only see the back of Nick’s head, I can tell from his stance that he was confused about my current whereabouts, so I take a deep breath and knock on the door. It is now or never.

Nick opens the door and raises his eyebrows at my panicked appearance as I try desperately to plead for his help with my eyes. When he gives no intimation he understands my frantic request, I stalk stiffly into the house, passing Nick on my way into the living room. It is far better to get this over with quickly and stop dreading it.

I walk into the living room, and stand there, my hands in my pockets, trying to look like as desirable and failing miserably. Anxiously trying to find something to do with my hands, I take them out of my pockets and began fiddling with them behind my back. Daisy is on the other end of the room, admiring all the flowers I had purchased for her.

Hearing my footsteps and believing them to have come from Nick, she turns around and begins to say something before realizing I am not Nick Carraway. As she stares at me in shock, she gives a harsh, ironic laugh, and then says, breathlessly, “Well, I certainly am awfully glad to see you again.”

I try to smile at her as I murmur a wistful, “Me too.” She is even more beautiful up close, as the rain is no longer in the way to disguise her beauty. I feel that all of my worrying had been for naught because everything is alright now that Daisy and I are reunited. But after that short exchange, neither of us speaks, and the peaceful lull in conversation quickly grows into an awful silence.

Nervous again because this is not how I had planned this to go, I lean against mantelpiece as Nick enters the room. He looks between Daisy, who had perched herself on the edge of a chair, and me, and then he raises one eyebrow at me in a questioning manner.

“We’ve met before,” I mutter by way of an unsatisfactory explanation, and then I try to stand again. However, as I do this, my hand pushes forward on the mantelpiece clock and it begins to tilt. I am able to catch it and put it back in its place, but I quickly sit down because perhaps it is not the best idea for me to be standing when my nerves are in such a fragile state.

“Sorry about the clock,” I say in a feeble effort at an apology, gesturing at the clock that is now sitting, perfectly in one piece, on the mantle.

Nick is by now blushing profusely at our awkward silence, and he mutters, “It’s an old clock.” I Thankful to him for trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy by brushing off my apologies, I shoot him a grateful glance he does not see.

This is an absolute disaster. I’m so embarrassed. I am Jay Gatsby, and I can’t even talk to a girl. I can’t believe I ever thought this was a good idea.

Daisy and I sit in our respective chairs as Nick stands between us. All of us look at the floor, afraid of making eye contact until, finally, Daisy speaks.

“We haven’t met for a couple of years.”

I look up at her from my miserable staring contest with the floor, remembering with perfect clarity the last time I had seen her. “Five years next November,” I say softly.

No one knows quite what to say to that, so we all continue looking wretchedly at each other until Nick finally claps his hands. “Shall we make tea?” He asks, pursing his lips.

Daisy and I look up at him, and I say, “That’s a good idea, old sport,” because I am grateful for the distraction. We are just standing to go to the kitchen when Nick’s servant enters the room with a tea tray. Luckily, the clink of the cups and the sounds of human consumption cut down on the awkward silences because we are all too busy eating to care about awkward reunited lovers. Yet I do find myself standing in the corner watching Nick and Daisy speak to each other about family and other trivial affairs. I am simultaneously in awe that Nick can have a normal conversation with her and jealous for that same trait.

However, shortly after we had sat down, he rises from his chair, saying he had to go somewhere.

I glance quickly at him. “What? Where? Why?” I ask him, both to break the silence and because I figure he is merely going to another room in the house.

Nick smiles pacifyingly at me. “I’ll be back,” he says.

No. Nick is not abandoning me with this disaster. I am not going to let him. “I’ve got to speak to you about something before you go,” I say quickly and follow him to the kitchen. As I shut the door between us and her, I turn around to find him shrugging into his coat. I stare vile daggers at him, hoping he’ll realize I want him to stay. When he doesn’t respond fast enough, I groan “Oh, God!” to get his attention.

“What’s the matter?” It is evident in his tone that he is rubbing that fact that this is not going to plan in my face.

Yes, Nick, I realize that.

“This is a terrible mistake. A terrible, terrible mistake.” Nothing is going according to plan, and that is making me nervous. I’m Jay Gatsby, the perfect man who always has a plan. I’m always put together, and I’m always having a grand time with whatever I’m doing. But my nervousness is making that façade of confidence slip, and I am desperate to gain it back.

He must see these thoughts in my expression because his face softens. “You’re just embarrassed, that’s all. Daisy’s embarrassed too.”

What? It seems impossible someone as perfect as Daisy could ever be nervous about anything. I must have voiced these thoughts aloud because Nick begins nodding knowingly at me.

“Just as much as you are,” He looks at me sternly as he raises his voice slightly to get his point across.

I quiet him, glancing at the door to the living room. Then I wildly warn him, “Don’t talk so loud.” But then I realize he is telling the truth. Just as Jay Gatsby supposedly never gets nervous, Daisy Fay also hypothetically never gets nervous. But, in light of this new information, the awkward silences and the awkward eye contact began to make a bit more sense.

In the midst of this realization, Nick interrupts my thoughts. “You’re acting like a little boy. Not only that, but you’re rude.” He looks pointedly at me, and I see his perception of me as an immature teenager reflected in his eyes. He gestures at the closed door. “Daisy’s sitting in there, all alone.”

I glance at the door, and then back at him. “Should I…?” I begin to ask, but he cuts me off.

“Yes. Go,” he says gruffly, giving me a little push towards the door.

 As I take a deep breath and open the door to the room where Daisy still sits, I hear Nick turn around and leave, slamming the door behind me.


End file.
